Game On
by Jody Armstrong
Summary: Video games CAN damage your health.


Game On

  


Daryl ducked back into the alcove as another volley of shots rang out. He pushed back against the far wall, hiding himself from his attackers, he could feel the damp mossy rock against his back as the wall near him shattered and splintered as it was raked with bullets. Daryl smiled to himself, a glint of joy reflected in his eyes as he released the magazine on his revolver, with an echoing clatter it fell onto the floor. Dayl grabbed a new magazine from his ammo belt and slapped it into the gun as his position was once again assaulted with fire. Daryl cocked the gun and held it ready, with a scream he ducked back out of the alcove and began firing back at his opponents.

  


Daryl blinked as his name was called again. He glanced around at the class, all of whome were staring at him, some of his fellow pupils were giggling at him. "Daryl?" the teacher announced. "I asked you what the formula for trigonometry was."

Daryl glanced at his sweating, shaking hands, he shuddered as he felt several drips of sweat roll down the back of his neck. Had he been there?

"Dayl? I'm waiting for the answer." the teacher asked, her hand on one hip, her brow furrowed as she became impatient.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry miss, I wasn't listening." Daryl replied, his eyes transfixed on his quivering hands, held out of view under the table.

"Well write if off the board and pay attention." the teacher replied, walking away towards the blackboard.

  


Daryl sat on the stone step of one of the school buildings, his eyes transfixed on his hands. This wasn't the first time that he had experienced playing Phantoma when he hadn't been near his computer. It had occured on the bus, a few days ago and again when he had been eating dinner with his family. The sensations were very strange, ethereal, almost dreamlike. It wasn't like he was there, playing the game, more like he was observing through his own eyes. Phantoma was the most absorbing first person game anybody had developed, it was the ultimate multi-player experience, a combination of realistic graphics and deathmatch gameplay immersed the players in a nightmare fight for survival.

Daryl didn't believe his mother whenever she told him that he was getting obsessed with his computer games, mother's were supposed to whinge and moan about their kid's hobbies. Daryl now believed what she was saying, maybe, was true, perhaps he was playing Phantoma too much.

  


The Phantoma home page drifted eeirly over Daryl's Navi's monitor. It's swirling, multi-coloured logo blinked as Daryl moved his cursor over it. The seductive call of his fellow gamesplayers via the chat window he had open and the rolling statistics of the games being played beckoned him to start playing. Daryl shook his head and closed the browser. He turned away from the screen, thinking of something else to do, when he heard a bleep from the Navi. He turned to see what the error was, and saw the Phantoma website open again. "What the?"

Before Daryl could do anything, the whole room phased slightly and Daryl found himself standing in the armoury room of one of Phantoma's game maps.

"I'm not playing." Daryl said out aloud, he looked around, it was just like the game, but it was more detailed, it felt real, hell it even smelled real. It wasn't like his previous experiences, this seemed real.

BEGIN GAME the booming voice announced, the resonance of it's voice bounced down the walls of the narrow corridors. Soon afterwards the sound of distant gunfire followed. Daryl ran to the armoury shelf and picked up a gun.

Daryl cocked the gun as he began to sweat. "Console." he called out. Nothing appeared. "Quit game." he also tried. Daryl cursed as nothing happened, without access to the console he couldn't do anything to exit the game. He tried several other commands, but to no avail, they were not working. The sound of gunfire drew nearer and he knew he had to leave the armoury, it was an easy target, if he could get to the lower levels he could wait in one of the many small rooms, perhaps keep out of the way until whatever was going on ended.

Daryl ran into the corridor, as he did, a young player jumped out infront of him, unlike the game of Phantoma on his Navi, this player looked real, a young boy of 5 or 6, there was no pixellation on his clothes, he was just like real life. The youngster rose his gun, a smile across his face, Daryl was quicker and fired his gun repeatedly at the boy. Several bullets struck the boy who screamed in pain and collapsed on the floor. Daryl crouched next to the warm body, he touched the boy's chest, and pulled away a bloodied hand. This wasn't a game anymore. Daryl spun around. "Why are you doing this?!" he screamed, no answer came.

Hours later, Daryl crouched behind a crumbling wall. He had slaughtered dozens of other players, he had shot them, stabbed them, punched them to death, everything. As the game ran low on players, new players spawned in, it was a never-ending cycle. Daryl sat panting, his face tight with exhaustion and anguish. "Can't do this anymore." he stammered to himself. "Please, just let me leave." he sobbed, his gun rested loosely in his hands. Daryl glanced at the gun, his eyes narrowed and he pulled the gun level with his head. "Game over." he said, pulling the trigger.

  


Daryl's eyes blinked as the blinding light faded. He glanced around the room, it was a medieval castle, a room from another map in Phantoma. He had respawned in another map, another game. "Gotcha!" came a voice from behind him. Daryl spun around and met eyes with the gaze of the young player from earlier, a gun pointed squarely at Daryl. As the bullet hit Daryl, there was another flash and Daryl respawned in another map location.

Daryl smiled and bent down, picking up a shotgun from a fallen player. He pumped the weapon, chambering a slug. "Game on." he said to himself.

  


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Game On

Copyright Jody Armstrong 2001

jody.armstrong@ntlworld.com


End file.
